


Day 8 | Apple Cider

by fandomvice (bookishvice)



Series: Fictober 2016 [8]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Crossdressing, Dry Humping, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Light Sadism, M/M, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Nipples, Orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishvice/pseuds/fandomvice
Summary: Apple Cider | 707/Jumin | 2.1k





	

Dragging Jumin’s drunken ass home is not how Seven expect Halloween night to end. They’d thrown an awesomely themed RFA party for the occasion. Seven spent the night as a mischievous white kitten in his favorite maid outfit, kitty ears headband, and glove paws. There were pranks, there was flirting, and then…

Jumin got drunk.

Seven huffs for the hundred time when his costume’s kitten ears get knocked off his head yet again, because Jumin keeps trying to fondle them.

“Pretty kitty. Not more than my Elizabeth, of course. But very…very…ve-ry…pretty,” Jumin murmurs, running his plastic werewolf claws down Seven’s cheek. Who knew Mr. Cold & Stoic could turn so touchy and talkative when drunk?

“Yes, yes. I am gorgeous and totally annoyed with your drunk ass right now,” Seven says a he drags Jumin through the door. The lights automatically switch on when they stumble inside the penthouse apartment. It’s a good thing Seven knew everyone’s home codes by heart, otherwise he would’ve had to take Jumin back to his place.

“How could you get drunk on apple cider?” Seven grumbles, tightening his grip around Jumin’s waist. “It doesn’t even have alcohol!”

“Zen spiked it.” Jumin plants his feet and glares at the distance. “I know it was him. That bastard.”

Seven groans. The idiot most probably grabbed the wrong drink off their table by mistake at some point. Zen _had_ been drinking some hard stuff, before he fluttered to the dancefloor with Yoosung. “Come on, hyung. Let’s get you in bed.”

Dragging him to the bedroom proves to be far too difficult, so Seven drops Jumin on the living room’s expensive white couch. Clearly out of his mind, Jumin rubs his face against it, smudging some of his werewolf-inspired makeup on it. Elizabeth the Third prances over and starts licking him until Jumin drifts off to sleep.

Seven smirks.

Too late to go back to the party, Seven makes himself at home as he keeps an eye on Jumin. He feeds Elizabeth and plays with her—she loves to be twirled around—then borrows Jumin’s laptop to chat and finish a few illegal hacks. It’s unfortunate when he gets the munchies because Jumin has no Honey Buddha Chips, but a quick fridge raid uncovers a Ph D. Pepper hidden behind some fancy water bottles.

Hoarding the Ph D. Pepper and some disgusting oatmeal cookies back to the living room, Seven sits cross-legged on top of the coffee table. Jumin is snoring softly, every exhale blowing the hairs of his jacket’s fur collar. Leave it to Jumin to make a werewolf costume sexy in a gentleman-with-a-bejeweled-cane sort of way.

Seven tilts his head as he munches on a cookie. Jumin even looks older like this, with his hair pushed up away from his face and the dark eye-makeup. He would look beautiful shirtless and tied up from a ceiling rig, his body writhing as Seven took his favorite cat o’ nine tails and tanned all that moonlight-pale skin.

It’s been one of Seven’s top fantasies ever since he came across the rumors of Jumin being gay. Unfortunately, he still hasn’t found evidence that proves them to be true.

A tiny frown appears between Jumin’s brows and a distressed noise leaves his parted lips. It tightens something in Seven’s chest, so he reaches over and smooths the little wrinkle with his fingers.

Jumin’s grey eyes flutter open.

Seven pulls back, heat flushing over his neck and ears. “Hey.”

It takes a full minute for Jumin to move, rolling over onto his side with a deep groan. “Fuck.”

Amused by this messy and foul mouthed side of Jumin, Seven laughs out loud. “You got drunk and you just cussed. Either the world is ending or we’re in one of my dirty dreams.”

Jumin sits up, holding his head, clearly in pain. His shirt is open, exposing his sternum and pecs. “I wish.”

Seven’s eyes go wide. “You…wish to be in my dirty dreams?”

Gray eyes focus on him. Jumin’s eyes are clear, far too clear for a man that was drunk just a few hours ago. “I meant it, you are a very pretty kitty.”

A stillness settles over the room, only broken by Elizabeth’s soft meowing. Jumin pets the cat when she prances by, but never takes his eyes off Seven. He’s waiting for Seven to make the next move, to retreat or to step forward through this door that has been opened.

But there’s one thing to clear up first.

“You know I’m an S, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re still…willing?” Seven asks, slightly incredulous. “Mr. I Have to Be In Control All The Time want to submit to me.”

Jumin nods. “Yes.”

Seven can’t believe it. A pinch to his arm doesn’t wake him up, which means this is not a dream. Jumin Han really just came out to him, offering himself to be dominated and punished. “Have you do this kind of thing before?”

There’s a pointed pause. “No.”

“But you want to.”

“I don’t know how else to say yes, Luciel,” Jumin growls out, clearly done with being questioned. “I want this. I want…you.”

“Okay, okay.” Seven uncurls from his spot on the coffee table, letting his feet brush the carpet. A shiver of desire runs through him when he sees Jumin’s eyes on his stocking-clad legs. God, he would be so easy to drive into a ruined, begging mess. But he’s not ready for that yet. “Why don’t you drop by my place tomorrow and—”

“I want to do this now.”

Seven shakes his head. “You’re hungover. I’m not pulling you into a scene in that condition.”

“Please,” Jumin whispers. “I just…I want to feel your hands on me.”

There’s no way he’s going to start Jumin on any sort of pain play tonight, but in the hands of an expert a bit of teasing can work just the same. Seven smiles, eyeing the wide slice of Jumin’s exposed chest. Bless that shirt.

“We’ll start this slow.” Seven takes a step towards Jumin, but then feels Elizabeth curl around his leg. He smiles. “I think we need to lock this lady up, unless you want an audience.”

Instead of relocating to the bedroom, Seven locks up Elizabeth inside it, then gets a bottle of fancy water. Jumin takes it with a small smile and drinks all of it in one go. Once he’s done, Seven takes the bottle, sets it to the side, and then climbs Jumin’s lap.

Seven fixes his skirt so only his panty-covered-cock is the one pressing against Jumin’s crotch. The tiniest widening of eyes is all the reaction he gets from Jumin. “That won’t do,” Seven says, and then grabs the sides of Jumin’s shirt and rips it open. Buttons fly everywhere.

Jumin lets out a gasp and his hands move up to grip Seven’s waist.

“Much better, Mr. Han.” Lowering his face, Seven lets his lips brush Jumin’s, but doesn’t really kiss him. “Green for okay. Red for full stop,” he whispers. “Understand?”

Jumin swallows. “Yes.”

With only a smirk for a warning, Seven grips Jumin by the hair and pulls back hard, exposing his neck.

Jumin yelps, breaths quickly increasing. There’s a tinge of fear, a sparkle of excitement in his grey eyes.

Seven holds him there, watching Jumin’s pulse vein spike up on the side of his neck. “Beautiful. Submitting to me so easily. Are you that eager for me?” Seven licks a stripe along it and further up that gloriously pale neck. He does it once, twice, on the third time he bites at the junction of Jumin’s neck and shoulder.

Jumin arches beneath him, hips jerking up and his fingers digging hard into Seven’s sides.

Seven gets a good feel for the erection that’s started to grow under him. It’s a rush knowing he did that with just a few licks and a bite. “Mmm. You taste so good, Mr. Han. I’m going to eat you up.”

Jumin nods slightly, his hair still in Seven’s grip. “Please.”

Letting him go with a sharp tug, Seven continues tasting his way down Jumin’s chest, smoothing the sides of his ruined shirt open to expose the rosy, nickel-sized nipples. Seven’s mouth waters at the sight, and slow grinds on Jumin’s lap, enjoying the zaps of pleasure filling up his cock. “These look delicious.”

Arching once more, Jumin offers himself to Seven’s mouth.

Seven graciously accepts the offering and latches his mouth around the left nipple, sucking hard enough to bruise. Jumin’s whines drift over him like the most erotic playlist. “You’re so sensitive. It’s giving me all sorts of idea. How about we put some pretty piercings on them, yeah?”

Jumin nods eagerly, and then bites his lower lip as his nipple is rubbed harshly over and over. His eyes roll back when Seven bites the skin around the now reddened and erect nipple, leaving behind soft teeth marks. Jumin’s cock is rock hard now, it’s length fitting against Seven’s own.

Loving the response, Seven gives the same treatment to the other nipple. By the time he’s done, Jumin’s chest is heaving with each deep breath he takes. Seven caresses his cheek. “What color are we at?”

Jumin stares at him for a moment, before he answers, “Green.”

“Good.” Seven pets him some more. “Very good, Mr. Han. Do you want to continue?”

“Please, I need to—” He thrusts up, shoving the hard cock straining his pants against Seven.

“Ah, yes.” Seven grins, running his fingers over Jumin’s chest and letting his short nails graze the skin. “We have to take care of that, don’t we?”

It only takes five more minutes to reduce Jumin to a blubbering mess on the verge of coming all over himself. Seven has licked, sucked, nuzzled, pulled, bitted, pinched, done anything and everything he wanted to Jumin’s lovely nipples. Jumin is sweating and his glazed eyes keep coming back to Seven as if asking permission. But Seven wants him to say it.

“You’re gonna come for me already?” Seven asks. “You need my permission to do that, Mr. Han.”

A sob comes out of Jumin’s mouth. “P-Please.”

Seven twists Jumin’s left nipple. “Please, what?”

Jumin wails. “P-Please, can I come?”

Seven moves his hips faster, sliding his clothed cock alongside Jumin’s. His panties are so ruined, the front soaked with precome that’s no doubt transferred to the front of Jumin’s pants. _Fuck_. “I don’t know, can you? Can you come from this? Just my fingers on your lovely tits.”

“Seven… _please_.” Jumin tugs at Seven’s outfit, trying to move him faster, pull him closer.

“Say my name, Mr. Han,” Seven orders. “Say it and you can come.”

“Lu—agh—Luciel!”

Seven is practically bouncing on Jumin’s lap now. “That’s not my name.”

Jumin groans, his body trembling. Then he cries out. “Saeyoung!”

“There you go! That wasn’t that hard, was it?” Tears have gathered at the corner of Jumin’s eyes and Seven’s heart trips on itself at the sight. So beautiful, so perfect. “Come, Mr. Han. Let me see you ruin those expensive pants.”

The words act like a red button on a bomb. Jumin comes with a drawn out moan and shudders that almost unseat Seven from his perch on Jumin’s lap. Seven feels the warm mess through his panties, and grinds harder against Jumin, riding him through the orgasm and after, until Jumin is whining with oversensitivity. Only then does Seven let off and roll over to sit on the side, one leg still over Jumin’s lap.

It’s a few minutes of petting Jumin’s hair, allowing him time to come down and catch his breath. All of Seven’s attention is on Jumin, the lovely flush on his cheeks, the reddened and puffy lips, how deliciously wrecked he looks just from some hard nipple play and dry humping. God in heaven, he needs to get Jumin to his place, where all his toys and devices are. They’re going to have so much fun.

Seven is still hard as a rock, but he makes no move to alleviate himself. It usually takes a lot to get him to come, and tonight is all for Jumin.

Ever the observant, when Jumin gazes at him with clear eyes, he says, “You didn’t come.”

“I’m okay.” Seven kisses his cheek, rubbing his nose against it after. “How are you?”

“Good,” Jumin says, fingers drifting over Seven’s stocking-clad leg. “Very good.” He repeats the gesture a few times—up and down, up and down—until his hand delves higher, slowly sliding under Seven’s maid skirt.

Gripping Jumin’s wrist and holding it tight, Seven smiles sweetly to let Jumin know everything is all right. “Tonight was about you, hyung,” he says, letting go of the wrist and petting Jumin’s hair, loving the way Jumin closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

Seven leans in to nip at Jumin’s earlobe. “Tomorrow is about _me_.”


End file.
